Healing Voices in the Night

Tuesday night, for the first time since I was a teenager, I went to bed before a presidential race was called and without hearing the expected speeches of concession and victory. By the time I slid beneath the covers, the outcome was all but certain, awaiting only the final stamp of approval from the pollsters, most of whom were already hard at work framing excuses for their monumental failure to accurately project the grizzled anger of the country.

A political junkie for most of my life, I have spent untold hours reading about issues and listening to the candidates and pundits examine them. I have loved the inside stories, the inner workings, the gossip and the strategy of campaigns. Canadian by birth, I saw myself as an outsider looking in (as I chronicled in a recent post), until I became a naturalized citizen in 1965.

I first voted in a presidential election in 1968 and this year marks my thirteenth presidential vote; I cast winning ballots six times and losing ballots seven times. In only one case did I ultimately regret my choice and in no case did I believe that the candidate I opposed would either destroy Western civilization or promote the killing of puppies. Peaceful transitions were made; we licked our wounds and waited for the next cycle.

I approached this election much the same way but quickly began to see that we were in for a slog--an election cycle that began to imitate life itself, interminable debates between insufferable candidates, a 24/7 media frenzy that sopped up anything that would fill airtime, and a new low in civility that should alarm anyone concerned with the political process.

We ended up with two deeply flawed candidates. One was fighting a historically symbolic battle with a sterling resume but with accusations of corruption that cost her the trust of the electorate. The other was the consummate outsider, flaunting traditional values, brutal in his characterization of others, paying his own way from his vast personal resources, and promising change with nothing to offer by way of policy or program except "trust me."

For me, the choice was clear. My abhorrence of one candidate's appeal to the dark underbelly of our country--racism, bigotry, misogyny, and many others--was more than sufficient to nullify my disappointment in the other's mishandling of emails and a questionable interplay between fund-raising and political access.

An ignorance of critical foreign policy issues and a cavalier attitude toward nuclear weapons left me deeply concerned about global stability. I had never experienced an election that featured a candidate so frightening to me and so dangerous for the world. I took solace in believing in my heart and thinking in my head that he could never be elected.

I wrote the previous two paragraphs not to stir emotions or rekindle the political firestorm, but only to explain the depth of feelings that prompt these reflections. I do understand that people of goodwill were deeply committed to the other candidate. I wish it was possible for both sides to engage in a dialogue that might not change minds but would at least help us to understand each other. That seems a bit elusive at the moment, but perhaps it will come another day.

Feeling as I did, one can perhaps imagine how the story that began to crawl across my television screen became a horrifying truth. The impossible was happening, the unelectable was being elected, the so-called carnival barker was to become the leader of the free world.

There was a lot to listen to and learn, but my body was rebelling. I couldn't deflect the fist that kept pounding me in the gut every time the networks announced they had a new projection. And my Parkinson's Disease, which usually behaves when I take my pills, announced it was going to have its way with me this night. It doesn't play well with stress, and it had apparently discerned that I was experiencing a fair measure of that. So here came the tremors and dyskinesia and other annoyances. I wasn't about to let the specter of this frightening moment in history invade my nervous system. I went to bed and slept soundly.

When I awoke, I first reached over to my iPhone to make sure it wasn't just a bad dream. Alas, no. Then I realized I had been processing ideas during the night because new thoughts were swirling within me. The most prevalent one was personal defiance. It went something like this:

"You know what? I'm 69 years old and I don't have to take this. If this is the kind of country you people want, go for it. I've got hundreds of books in my library that I would love to read, while sipping good coffee. I can watch basebalI, which imitates life better than almost anything. I don't know much about music, but I enjoy the haunting beat and unruly experimentation of great jazz. With a few clicks of a key, I can bring the world's finest movies into my living room. I can turn off the news, quit watching Rachel and skip the New York Times daily update. Let the victors reap the spoils and be damned." 

As of this moment, that is still sounding like a pretty good plan, But this incessant voice keeps muttering from deep down inside me. It first came in the night and stirred me awake with inelegant phrasings and incomplete sentences. Stuff like this:

-- "pretty cute granddaughters you've got there, Grant"

-- "be gracious, give him a chance to succeed"

-- "coward"

-- "in Missouri, if you don't like today's weather just wait until tomorrow"

-- "all persons are of inestimable worth in the sight of God"

-- "first the Royals, then the Cubs...see, hope can never die"

-- "that peace and justice thing you've talked about all these years--do you really buy into that?"

-- "about those blog posts you put up over the last ten years -- did you believe that stuff?"

-- "you're not so old -- sounds like an excuse"

-- "dream big dreams"

-- "pretty smart granddaughters you've got there, Grant"

I turn in my bed and stare at the ceiling. I am angry and hurt and frightened. Then I hear those soft voices again, over and over, still quiet, but unrelenting.

The sun sneaks through the slats in the blind and begins to draw lines of light across the ceiling. I get up and go get my pills.

It is the dawn of a new day.

A Canadian Immigrant Ponders the U.S. Election

In the summer of 1959 my mother, sister, grandmother, and I packed all our worldly possessions into a North American Van Lines truck and sent it on its way to Independence, Missouri, USA, where we were moving from our home in a small town near Toronto, Canada.

It took the moving van a month to make it to Missouri, but for our family it was the journey of a lifetime. As we crossed the Windsor/Detroit border, I can still remember pressing my nose against the rear window of the car, watching with complicated feelings as my Canadian homeland disappeared in the distance. We also left behind my father, who had deserted our family because he was unable to control his addiction to alcohol. Gone also was a host of friends and family. I was twelve years old.

It's a lonely job patrolling the
US/Canada border. No walls are planned.

I was an alien, and I had a green card to prove it. I was in a strange land where my classmates thought Canadians lived in igloos, hockey was played on a horse, and a Chesterfield was a cigarette instead of a divan.

But before long I was assimilated. It was easier for our family than some immigrants. This was a time before Canada became a bilingual nation, and it could be reasonably argued that Canadians speak the same language as Americans. Mostly, eh?

Over the years as I adapted to a new country, I learned some things. One might call them takeaways.

I found it a bit disconcerting to discover that few Americans knew anything about Canadian history or culture, whereas I had been schooled about our neighbors to the south. Many Americans couldn't find Canada on a map, and were surprised to discover that it was considerably larger than the U.S., although admittedly a lot of that land is frozen tundra. A takeaway: American exceptionalism sets a nice framework for patriotic speeches, but it might be helpful if we understood more about the rest of the world, especially if one aspires to lead the nation.

Even at that tender age in Canada, I remember being interested in politics. I figured all I had to do was exchange names like Lester Pearson and John Diefenbaker for those of Richard Nixon and John F. Kennedy. It turned out to be a bit more complicated than that. There are various forms of democracies--a parliamentary system is different than a republic. A takeaway: There are different ways of governing, and we can learn from many of them,

In an eighth-grade social studies class, I recall having to debate another student about a proposal in the 1960 election having to do with farm subsidies. I knew little about the issues of that election, let alone anything to do with farming. But debate it I did. A takeaway: It was perhaps my first inkling that maybe some aspirants to public office don't know what they're talking about.

In those days there was a pretty clear pathway to citizenship. I had to live in the country for five years, take a test to prove that I understood the basic principles of the Constitution, and repeat an oath denouncing any allegiance I might have to my country of origin and swearing my absolute fealty to the United States of America. In 1965 I went with my mother and sister to a courtroom in Kansas City and there we participated with 20 or 30 others in a ceremony that would make us citizens of this land. The judge picked me out of the group to lead the pledge of allegiance. I gulped and hesitatingly started it with "I pledge allegiance to...", hoping that others would cover for me if I couldn't remember the words all the way to the end. They did, and I was an alien no more. A takeaway: Maybe native born Americans should take a test to prove they understand the Constitution too.

The 1968 DNC Convention took place as much in the streets
as in the hall. Politics were changed as a result.

My interest in politics piddled along throughout high school and college until it came to full bloom in the contentious election of 1968, my senior year in college and the first time I was eligible to vote in a presidential election. Despite attending a small, midwestern, church-sponsored college, I  had relatively liberal views, opposing the War in Vietnam, supporting equality for all regardless of race or gender. During the 1968 Democratic National Convention, I favored the long-haired, anti-War demonstrators in the streets over the establishment candidates in the hall trying to thwart the followers of Eugene McCarthy and the inheritors of Robert F. Kennedy, who had been assassinated just a matter of weeks before.

In November that year, partly in a fit of pique over the Democratic Party's handling of the anti-War movement, and partly in a blush of naïveté that convinced me I could trust Richard Nixon when he said he had a secret plan to end the war, I cast my first presidential vote for Nixon. I have been in a state of perpetual penance ever since. But I did get an important takeaway: Don't trust politicians, or at least be wary; trust the process, but keep your eyes open.

Four years later I embraced the quixotic campaign of peace activist George McGovern, only to find it dashed to pieces on the rocks of political reality, winning only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia. I was devastated. The takeaway: Follow your dreams, but protect your heart.

In the years that followed, I learned how to be an American. It was kind of like being a Canadian with some nuances of difference. Canadians often sing an appeal that God would save their Queen, whereas Americans sang the hope that their flag would continue to wave.

The U.S. military is a far more powerful presence in the world than Canada's, and is often called upon to protect allied nations from hostile invasions. Canadian forces were less likely to do so, although my father had served in the Canadian army during World War II. However, Canada played a formidable role in the creation of NATO, arguably the most significant treaty of the 20th Century; it is still providing a security safety net for widely disparate nations of the Western world. The takeaway: Embrace our differences, respect those who look, speak, and pray in diverse ways, for we have much to learn from one another.

In the past 40 years the American political landscape has experienced a staggering litany of notable, sometimes earthshaking, events such as these, to name only a few:

• Nixon's resignation amidst a scandal defined by corruption and cover-up
• An American election handcuffed by hostages in Iran
• The rise of an aging but charismatic movie star to become one of the most beloved American presidents
• A young and effective politician overcoming an impeachment scandal arising from his personal life
• A pivotal election turning on "hanging chads" from a recount of Florida ballots, ultimately decided by a deeply divided Supreme Court
• Terrorists killing thousands on 9/11 and defining a presidency, first by widely supported retaliation and then by profound questions about flawed intelligence that led to an unpopular war in Iraq
• The hope-filled election of the first African American president, unexpectedly stirring racial and cultural wars and Congressional gridlock
• A 2016 presidential primary that featured the nomination of potentially the first woman to serve as president, a populist revolt from the left, and a 17 candidate GOP field from the right that resulted in the nomination of the most divisive candidate in over a century

The takeaway: The incredible vitality and pluralism of American society is its blessing and its curse, giving rise to our highest aspirations even while stirring the basest forces of hate and ignorance.

All of that and more is on my mind as this Canadian-born, U.S. naturalized, citizen reflects on the American election of 2016. I have voted for 12 presidents, six times with the winning side and six times with the losing side. Some of those elections brought me deep feelings of despair and others literally brought tears of joy to my eyes. I have no doubt that one of those emotions--despair or joy--will burrow into my soul when the ballots are counted and the network projections fill my television screen on November 8, 2016.

I think the takeaways from my modest immigrant journey will continue to inform me, even in this campaign the pundits declare is like no other. There are principles suggested by those takeaways that use words like respect, diversity, humility, constitution, strength, aspiration, vitality, global, process, governance, and trust. They are the words that this Canadian immigrant seized on as he grew from a twelve-year-old boy to a 69-year-old senior, still making his way as an American from Canada. Here are a few musings unpacked from the story of this election, filtered through my life as an immigrant, and contrasted with the American narrative.

When I heard the word "immigrant" I never thought of it as applying to me, until now. Something has happened in this election cycle that has recast a word previously attached to the Statue of Liberty and the admirable notion of "melting pot," and has turned it into something vile and threatening. We have lost sight of the fact that "country of origin" is an accident of birth, not an earned privilege. That is the reason why America has been so generous in welcoming those who have come in search of a better life. I am not suffering any indignities for having migrated here as a young lad, but I am more conscious these days of not being a natural born citizen, as if that somehow makes me a lesser being. Silly, I know. But still.

Trust is the primary currency we can use to make the American political system work; both parties have squandered much of their collateral in this election. I don't appreciate Secretary Clinton parsing her words around accusations of improper use of an email server. Neither do I accept the Democratic National Committee rigging the system to minimize Bernie Sanders' chances of winning the nomination. These missteps are matched by Trump's fury of lies over his business practices and ethical shortcomings. It has left us with two of the most unpopular candidates in history heading the two national tickets. This disillusionment means that many votes will be squandered rather than treasured, an ominous failing that risks the very stability of the country.

The glass ceiling is already shattered; we're just cleaning up the shards. I don't mean to minimize Hillary Clinton's historic campaign to become the first female president. I also want that barrier down so that my granddaughters won't ever have to think about it. But the truth is that the United States is a bit late to the game. Margaret Thatcher was prime minister of the UK during the Reagan era. A recent study conducted by the World Economic Forum shows that 63 of 142 nations surveyed have had a female head of state--not great, but notable. When I listen to Hillary Clinton I don't even think about her becoming the first woman to serve as president; I think about what she is saying. That's a good thing. Let's quit crowing so much and just get it done.

The Constitution is neither a list of suggestions nor a cultural straitjacket, but a living document ingeniously written to define foundational principles in a changing world. Sometimes it feels like immigrants understand that idea more clearly than many native born Americans who don't ever have to take an oath to uphold the Constitution. The most memorable moment of either convention was when Khizr Khan, the Muslim father of an American soldier who died in Iraq, reached into his pocket and pulled out his own copy of the Constitution, offering it to Donald Trump. The cavalier attitude of Trump toward the equal protection clause and the religious freedom clause is chilling. It's been over 50 years, but I'm pretty sure I had to understand both of those principles when I took the quiz before I lifted my hand to recite the oath of allegiance.

Political correctness is not the opposite of civility, nor does its rejection mean that one can say anything about anyone with impunity. The idea of political correctness came into the vernacular when advocates of social change began to demand a precision of language around those changes. Words are important, but sometimes it got silly. Now it has swung too far the other direction and common courtesies and normal respect are being labeled as political correctness. It is not a question of freedom of speech; the right to do something does not require one to do it. This is particularly true of those who would lead us, and whose words become a model for discourse in our society. Shame on those who mock and deride others and use rejection of political correctness as their cover.

Declaring we're the greatest nation in the world requires that we understand and respect the world with which we compare ourselves. As I mentioned previously, I was troubled by how little Americans knew about their neighbor to the north, in contrast to what I knew about my neighbor to the south. But there is a difference between childhood innocence and adult ignorance. This election is being characterized as featuring the "most qualified candidate to ever run for president" (perhaps some hyperbole there, but refers to Clinton) and "the least prepared candidate to be commander in chief" (refers to Trump, largely on his claim that his own brain is his primary consultant on foreign policy). Ignorance is becoming increasingly dangerous in a world where subtle differences between cultural or religious groups have life or death consequences. And here's the biggest danger of all: When citizens start letting demagogues do their thinking they relinquish the power of "We the people," the very cornerstone of American democracy.

An adopted child is often reminded that he or she was chosen to be a part of this family, unlike those who were born into it. As an adopted citizen, I have had to learn how to be an American while still valuing my Canadian heritage. I have taken this seriously, studying American history and culture, raising our two sons to respect their country and the blessings it provides.

This election leaves me swirling in discontent and apprehension, different from any previous balloting I have experienced, even those in which I was deeply invested. I think of it as not so much an election of ideas as an election of soul. I don't mean that in a specifically religious sense, but in a human sense. If we allow unprincipled politicians to gain power through divisiveness, ignorance, and hate, our country will be diminished and our place in the world will decline in measurable ways.

It may seem strange coming from a Canadian immigrant, but it is really about patriotism--love of country, respect for each other, generosity of spirit, and a vision of hope.

America, wherever our birthplace, whatever our faith, let's do it together, eh?

Why the Reasons Joe Biden Should Not Run for President are the Reasons He Should

Vice President Joe Biden on Late Night with Stephen Colbert,
September 10, 2015.

Vice President Joe Biden’s remarkable interview with Stephen Colbert, an unforgettable moment in only the third episode of Colbert’s new late-night show, was a powerful demonstration of the soul of American democracy in a political season that has generally exhibited its underbelly. Whatever one thinks of the Vice President or the current administration, I think most will agree that his open heart and honest feelings are the very qualities we most need in those who would lead the nation.

The interview between Colbert and Biden was a meeting of two men who had both suffered extraordinary pain and tragedy. Biden lost his wife and 19-month-old daughter in a 1972 automobile accident, and most recently his 48-year-old son to a brain tumor. Colbert, similarly, was ten years old when his father and two older brothers died in a 1974 plane crash in North Carolina.

If the shared experience between the two men established the evident rapport in the interview, the crescendo of response overnight makes it clear that they touched a universal chord that resonates with the entire human family. It makes one wonder why this should be. Why are we surprised and touched when a politician shows up with feelings on his sleeve and tears in his eyes?

I don’t know whether Joe Biden should run for president or not. If he chooses to do so, he has my ear. I have always admired him as a person, appreciated his broad domestic and global experience, and chuckled at his occasional good-hearted gaffes. He has always been the real deal.

Vice President Joe Biden with his son, Beau,
who died earlier this year.

But the tortuous road he has traveled to a decision has given us an even deeper insight into the human being behind the political persona. One has to believe that many other politicians have gone on similar journeys; they have just chosen to make it an inward sojourn, perhaps thinking they would otherwise appear weak or indecisive. Just the opposite is true.

Meanwhile, the ship of fools that is the 2016 presidential campaign paddles on. This morning, in the wake of the beautiful and heartfelt experience of Biden/Colbert, we hear about whether Carly Fiorina is attractive enough to be president, whether Donald Trump’s hair resembles a squirrel, and whether Hillary Clinton’s handlers should have leaked that she is planning to be more spontaneous.

I understand fully the reasons why Joe Biden hesitates to take on a national campaign while his family is awash in the life-changing, life-questioning, life-affirming experiences that shape what it means to be a human being. We feel their pain, and not in a sloganeering way. We truly feel their pain.

The problem is that that is exactly what we need in a president -- somebody who feels our pain.

Garrison Keillor's America vis-à-vis the Dark Vision of Donald Trump

Saturday night my wife and I attended a stirring program at the Starlight Theater in Kansas City, featuring Garrison Keillor and members of the cast from his long-running radio program, A Prairie Home Companion. It will likely be the last live performance we will witness. Keillor has announced his retirement after a 41-year run. 

Over that time, which began the year our oldest son was born, we have listened to hundreds of his weekly programs, acquired numerous tapes and CDs, attended several live performances, and  in 2006 enjoyed a memorable cruise to Alaska which featured Keillor and his entire cast as the entertainment for the week. (In fact, that was the year I started this blog and here is a link to my post about APHC and that cruise, way back when.)

Keillor is an American original, a genuine folk humorist blessed with a musical capacity that bridges the genres and mixes it lightly with a comedic sense, impeccable timing, and self-deprecating charm. He is a storyteller par excellence. Sometimes when he starts one of his classic tales from Lake Wobegon, the mythical Midwestern town at the heart of his artfully created world, you wonder if the story will find its way back to an ending that is worthy of its telling. But usually, by hook or crook, he traverses the landscape he has imagined and lands adroitly on a moral point that is centered in the America he loves. And we love it too.

There will be a plethora of reviews, tributes, and retrospectives by the time Keillor hangs up his red shoes for the last time. Far be it for me to presume to assess his place in American culture, confident though I am that it will be notable indeed.

But there were some other stirrings in my soul the other night as I began to have a clearer sense of the kind of America Garrison Keillor paints for us each time he sits down on his stool in front of a microphone and begins to spin through skits, songs, and stories, a world that his audience recognizes in its heart, and yearns for in its head.

Unfortunately, my joy in the moment was tempered by an inner dissonance. I found myself contrasting Keillor's America with the one being bandied about in American society these days, led by an egocentric billionaire for whom money is the sole measure of value, force the pathway to security, and ridicule the commerce of diplomacy.  

His is a dark vision. It appeals to our baser selves. It is all prose and no poetry. It is a world without boundaries for those with their own helicopter, their name emblazoned on its side. It is a vision where every humiliating affront is declared as "just boys being boys." It is a vision composed of walls and armies and demagoguery. It is a society where building casinos is likened to building cathedrals. It is a dark and make-believe world that is being created and fueled by fear and empowered by hate. And this traveling salvation show is driven by one who declares there is nothing in his life for which he needs to ask forgiveness.

This is a dark and terrifying vision of America. 

But there is a better way.

Garrison Keillor also skewers American life and all its foibles. He makes fun of his religious upbringing and the strait-laced virtues of small town Lutheranism. Then he leads the audience in singing "Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Coming of the Lord." No malice here.

He would make fun of the notion of building a gigantic wall to keep “illegals” out, then put a perspective to it by returning us to old, familiar campfire songs like: “So wide you can’t get around it, so tall you can’t get over it, so low you can’t get under it, you gotta go inna the door.” (That’s the way I learned it, anyway.) Somehow, this wall would so much more powerful in its symbolism if it wasn’t accompanied by the list of building supplies to be picked up at Home Depot.

Garrison Keillor lampoons bureaucrats in Washington, DC, with the best of them. His satire is incisive and just as penetrating, but it is not filled with personal loathing, as if every federal worker was stupid and on the dole. There is a difference between criticizing and demonizing.

If one vision of America is centered in personality and ego, Keillor's is self-effacing, his hair windblown but not intentionally so, his wardrobe often unfashionably askew, his ego undoubtedly fluffed by audience adulation but without illusions as to how important that really is.

Garrison Keillor's patriotism is inclusive. His concert tour lifts up the beauty of America, "from sea to shining sea." His audience is not a bunch of different people; it is one people under a canopy of heaven, singing songs we all know, laughing at ourselves, and celebrating the vast community that is America. The other vision is about "just us, not them." It appeals to an American exceptionalism that has winners and losers, and a puppeteer determining which victors get which spoils.

I am not an innocent drawn to quixotic causes, but I am a dreamer. I have been blessed to see a lot of this world, to experience its beauty and its brokenness. I have seen the worst and the best of people. I have seen the world changed by the simplest of persons, and I believe that leadership is a sacred gift proffered to us so as to help us be about good work in the world.

Leaders unite, they do not divide. Leaders respect, they do not ridicule. Leaders sing hymns, not their own song.

Garrison Keillor is not running for president, but his vision of America laughs, cries, and sings its way into our hearts. Sing along, lest we all get swept away into the darkness.

The 17th Candidate

Here are the 17 Republican candidates in alphabetical order, except for Jim Gilmore,
who apparently got in too late to meet the graphic designer's deadline.

I’ve been wondering what it must feel like to be the 17th candidate in the crowd of 17 running for the Republican presidential nomination. They vary from poll to poll — one day it’s Lindsey Graham, the next it’s Bobby Jindal, only to be supplanted by Jim Gilmore or George Pataki. It’s a tight race for the 17th spot, and there are quite a few deserving contenders.

I think too much attention is given to the front runners. Most commentaries focus on the absurdity of Donald Trump leading the pack or the stunning fall from grace of Jeb Bush or Scott Walker. Some zero in on the internecine war between Rand Paul and Chris Christie or the unexpected surge of Marco Rubio or Carly Fiorina. But what about the guys that are polling at 1% or less? They are the ones desperate to find a niche, willing to consider almost any scheme to be discovered. The battle to be dead last may be the most overlooked story of this presidential campaign.

I have heard some cynics dismiss all these Republican candidates as losers. This is grossly unfair to those who have fought hard for that designation and deserve the right to reap the fruits of their labors. Some have crafted carefully-considered position statements on the issues and posted them on their website. This is important, because Americans can go to that source and read what the candidate believes, after which they can then declare with full approbation, “Geeze, that guy is a loser.” It is lazy and unpatriotic to arrive at that conclusion without knowing what stupid positions they hold.

The fight for last place also gets confusing when we hear that some of the contenders have been endorsed by God. Some of us who believe in God tend to think He would go for somebody at least in the middle of the pack, if not the top five. I’m not suggesting God would line up for Trump just because he’s in first place — there are simply too many mixed metaphors in that relationship. And I would understand if He had trouble going with someone named Jeb, although God has worked with Esau and Nebuchadnezzar, so I suppose it’s possible. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’ve always thought that God looked with favor on teachers, so Scott Walker is probably not going to get the nod.

I could go down the list, but I just think that it is possible that the 17th spot is still in play for God’s support. The word on the street is that there are a number of God-centered Super PACs being formed. Some long-time contributors to Republican causes are murmuring (a biblical form of muttering) about the requirement that a 10% tithe comes right off the top of every political gift and goes straight to God. This has not been expected of Republicans in the past, but some of the candidates vying for the 17th spot are apparently willing to cut the deal.

Off the record, political insiders have said that lining up God’s endorsement brings with it a number of volunteers experienced in going door to door. However, seasoned political operatives are expressing concern that some of those canvassers are wanting to include their own pamphlets listing the social behaviors that will result in one’s eternal damnation to the firey pits of hell. Several of the candidates that the polls list as likely 17th-placers denied that they had agreed to this, indicating that negotiations were ongoing.

The other thing that must be disheartening is the ubiquitous publication of polling results in graphically embarrassing ways. It doesn’t matter if it’s a bar chart, a pie chart, or a line chart. When you are a tiny blip on a chart published on the front page of USA Today, surely you hope like the dickens that the girl you asked to the high school prom isn’t sitting there thinking, “Geeze, what a dweeb you turned out to be, Lindsey.”

Things are surely awkward at Thanksgiving and Christmas if you’re the 17th candidate. “So, what are you doing these days, George?” inquires a favorite aunt, feigning any awareness that you’re running for President of the United States but are trailing Bobby Jindal in the “Looks Presidential” poll on CNN. It’s a tough spot for families. Most want to be supportive, but nobody wants to back a loser and look like a fool. In politics, blood is thicker than water, but only if it’s distilled water.

To be in the trenches with the 17th candidate must be a tremendous head trip, if not a spiritual epiphany. It’s you against the establishment, the nay-sayers, the political pundits, the elites, the donor class, and your own desperation. But onward you go, bottled water in hand, and prognosticators be damned. “The last shall be first,” you declare, citing the Bible or Shakespeare or Judge Judy.

For the 17th candidate, there is one big danger. There is always the chance that you will be misquoted or misunderstood, and thereby come off sounding wise and interesting, accidentally setting off an unintended firestorm that catches the attention of Morning Joe or causes Donald Trump to belittle you. Then you will climb up a few points in the polls, lose your claim to the 17th slot, and be lost to history forever.

Misery in Missouri - The Tragic Consequences of "Show Me" Politics

The Gateway Arch in St. Louis is a powerful symbol of the
opening of the West.

I have been a resident of the state of Missouri for 55 years. For the most part, it has been a pleasant place to live. Located roughly in the center of the United States, it sometimes gets referred to as America's Heartland. It has a little quirky reputation as the "Show Me" state, has fostered silly arguments about pronunciation of its name (Missour-ee’ or ‘Missour-uh), and sometimes gets identified as the place where hillbillies from the Ozarks live. The latter image was turned to gold by the development of Branson as a country music destination second only to Nashville.

But those irksome notions are easily overcome by the state's more redemptive features. Mark Twain is connected with Hannibal and the Mississippi River adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Western Missouri is the jumping off place for the Santa Fe, California, and Oregon Trails and the majestic arch in St. Louis is a memorable image commemorating the opening of the West. The Latter Day Saint movement, the largest indigenous faith tradition in the United States, claims Independence as a place of historic and spiritual significance. The University of Missouri boasts one of the most prestigious schools of journalism in the country.

The Lake of the Ozarks and the small mountain range in which it nests, offers a particularly picturesque setting that surprises first-time visitors. Harry S Truman is Missouri's favorite son, a plain-speaking President beloved more after he left office than when he occupied it. I watched Thomas Hart Benton paint the majestic mural in the foyer of the Truman Library, and it was not unusual for us to see Mr. Truman walking to the Library in the morning, waving his cane at our school bus as we passed him on Delaware Street. St. Louis and Kansas City each have Major League Baseball and National Football League franchises, a claim few states can match. 

Missouri was a Border State during the Civil War and supplied troops to both the Union and Confederate forces, a form of bipartisanship in its own way. That was echoed well into the twentieth century. Although politics was usually defined by Democratic Party strength in the two urban areas and a more conservative presence in the rural areas, it also led to some spirited and healthy debate as moderate Republicans began to gain strength in the last third of the twentieth century. I remember being proud when our two U.S. Senators were Democrat Tom Eagleton and Republican John Danforth, both decent men who worked cooperatively for the good of the state and the nation.

Former senator John Danforth delivered the
eulogy at the funeral for State Auditor Tom Schweich

It was Danforth's appearance in the news today that prompted me to put these words to some things that have been troubling me and really came to a head this week. This was a horrible day for the state of Missouri, but this state has been dropping like a rock for several years now. 

Danforth, formerly a senator but also Ambassador to the United Nations, was on the television today because he was delivering a eulogy at the funeral for Missouri State Auditor Tom Schweich, who took his own life last Thursday. Danforth, an ordained Episcopal priest, delivered a powerful take-down of the cesspool that has become Missouri politics. It reminded me of how much I miss voices like that of John Danforth.

The death of Tom Schweich, a Republican, twice-elected auditor and recently announced candidate for governor, has sent shock waves throughout the state, but not enough of them for my taste. This is a terrible tragedy, but it is also a wake-up call for this state and its elected or wanting to be elected politicians.

Missouri State Auditor Tom Schweich

Here is a link to a more detailed account of the Schweich suicide, but in essence this appears to be a case of a sensitive and perhaps thin-skinned man being unable to cope with a humiliating radio ad and a whispering campaign about his alleged Jewish heritage. He was not Jewish, actually an active Episcopalian, but was proud of some family roots in the Jewish faith. 

But there is a backstory here that is yet to be fully told. It involves the state chairman of the Republican party, the other announced Republican candidate for governor, a billionaire who has injected hundreds of thousands of dollars into Missouri politics, and untold allegations of corruption being alleged by Schweich. All of this has been more or less known, but now it is embodied in the death of a decent man. Something has to change.

This post is triggered by the Schweich tragedy, but is more broadly about the distressing fall of this state, now on our way to becoming a laughing stock because of the absurdity of the legislature, the ineffectiveness of the governor (a Democrat), and an increasing perception that we are a kind of cultural backwater over here. 

On the day of this funeral, many may have overlooked the report issued by the Justice Department regarding the racist culture present in the Ferguson police department, resulting in the tragic shooting and rioting last November. The report details disgusting jokes and scores of discriminatory actions by the supposed public servants. It is an account of Missouri in shame.

But that is only the beginning of our embarrassment. Here are a few illustrations of what we are experiencing here in Missouri:

• 28% of the executions in the United States last year took place in Missouri, which tied Texas for the most executions in 2014.
• More black elementary school students have been suspended from school in Missouri than any other state in the country. (14% compared to 7.6% in U.S,. and compared to 1.6% white in both Missouri and U.S.)
• Todd Akin, campaigning to be elected senator from Missouri in 2014, advanced the notion that if she is "legitimately" raped a woman has the ability to "shut down" and prevent pregnancy. This proved too much for even Missouri. They reelected a Democrat.
• The legislature has had on its agenda this year a proposal that if evolution is to be taught in a school the parents must be notified and sign a note agreeing to their child being submitted to this information.
• Governor Jay Nixon, who has managed to get elected to several statewide offices as a Democrat in a red state, managed to embarrass us all by his inept handling of Ferguson, all of it played out on a very large national stage.
• In 2012 the legislature honored a famous Missourian by putting a bust of Rush Limbaugh in the State Capital. Fortunately, it doesn't talk.
•  The range of efforts to curtail lawful abortions has become so ridiculous that it can only be described as ludicrous.
• Missouri managed to prevent many of its residents from benefitting from health insurance coverage by refusing to expand Medicaid and by attacking the Affordable Care Act at every turn, thereby denying Missourians significant benefits from federal subsidies.

It goes on and on. These are only suggestive of the kind of thing we have been coping with in this once proud state. 

We need some serious dialogue in this state around our dysfunctional political system, our willingness to succumb to the most barbarian of ideas without denouncing them as such, and by laying claim once again to being the heartland of America.

Lies, bullying, and ridicule by political officials and their take-no-prisoners consultants have resulted in a good man taking the most ultimate step possible to relieve his pain. I am ashamed to be a Missourian today. My profound hope is that people who care will take John Danforth's words and begin right now to clean this system of those whose names were not mentioned but whose identities are not a secret.

And then let's grow up and live in our own century. With our record these days we've got no business demanding anybody to "Show Me" a darn thing, as if we already know everything. It's time for us to go deep within ourselves and then hope we have something to "Show Them." Don't hold your breath. 

**********

Literally as I was writing this piece, with my television playing in the background, the Rachel Maddow Show started playing a segment on the Tom Schweich story, including Danforth's eulogy. It is excellent and you can find it here. 

Now Hiring: Political Courage -- No Experience Needed

Sarah Palin and Senator Ted Cruz recite the Pledge of Allegiance
at a rally in Washington DC. Photograph: Andrew Burton/Getty Images

You know, I keep reading where Ted Cruz and his ilk are "bringing down the House," if not the entire country. 

I agree that the irresponsibility of the fringe elements of Congress is beyond comprehension. But the Republican Party is reaping what it has sowed. If the mainstream Republicans had any guts, they would have stepped up and eliminated this nonsense long ago. Last I heard there were 435 members of the House of Representatives, 232 of them being Republican. How is it that one senator who most people had never heard of six months ago seems to be playing the tune to which many are marching? 

The answer, of course, is not that tough to find. Quite a few otherwise reasonable and patriotic representatives sold their souls to the fringe elements of their party in a cynical effort to retain those votes. It started during the 2010 campaign and proved to be an effective political strategy; the Republicans regained control of the House, though not the White one.  

Pondering Out Loud as the Clock Ticks Down

Two weeks from now we will know who will be president of the United States for the next four years. That assumes, of course, that there will be no intervention by a Supreme Court that seemed to enjoy appointing the president when the opportunity came their way in the 2000 election (okay, okay, it's cheesy and should be beneath me, but still...). In truth the razor thin margin this year doesn't guarantee any outcome--a tie in the Electoral College is far from impossible, leaving the decision to the Republican-controlled House of Representatives. Oh my!

I'm cursed by being interested in all this. I watch the darn debates. I listen to the cable television talking heads prattling away into the night. Sometimes I watch the late, late night reruns hoping the blue vote in Wyoming might have slipped beyond the statistical margin of error that Rachel or Wolf reported three hours before.

It never does. But then, before I could trigger the remote I would find myself in the middle of an infomercial for some kind of cream that repairs your male pattern baldness, restores your libido to when you were 14, and when properly applied reminds you (men only please) to put the toilet seat down. All this for only $14.95 plus shipping and handling, bringing the total to $87.58. It's deals like this that keep you interested in politics.

I've got some things rattling around in my head about this election and think it might be a good idea to get them written down before they become tainted by outcome. There is nothing to ruin a good night of pondering more quickly than to have it ratified or repudiated by facts.

Not my granddaughter but almost as cute.

For purposes of full disclosure let me acknowledge than I consider myself an independent but I mostly vote for Democrats. In 2008 I enthusiastically and tearfully voted for Obama and will do so this year, perhaps without the tears. I not only support him but I admire him. I am furious at the Republican intransigence over the last four years so it is going to take a while for that party to regain my acceptance in those few places where I might be inclined to support either an idea or candidate.

In addition, I recently turned 65 and am now the recipient of government largesse via Medicare and the Social Security Trust Fund (which I understand is currently busy paying off unfunded war expenses and other such obligations). I tell you all this because I believe that the closest one can get to objectivity is to disclose one's subjectivity.

What follows is a handful of words that prompt in me some reflection or feeling pertaining to the current election cycle. Each word could probably stand on its own merit but I'll give them a couple of sentences explanation just in case you, dear reader, think differently, and therefore wrongly, about its meaning. We can't have that.

INCIVILITY: During a speech by the President to a joint session of Congress Rep. Joe Wilson yelled aloud "You Lie!" That is perhaps the benchmark in a season of rudeness and disrespect that does not auger well for a political climate worthy of our highest aspirations.

PROPORTIONALITY: Little things weigh too much. That can apply to a poorly phrased idea or a faulty memory, but a deeper illustration is Obama's admittedly poor debate performance in his first standoff with Romney. Most analysts think a good debate by Obama would have virtually locked the race down; instead it energized the opposition and left an election still in doubt just two weeks away. Pretty serious consequences for a bad day.

CARNIVAL: The Republicans rolled out about 20 debates with a cast of characters that rivaled the traveling carnivals of my youth. We got a bunch of wannabes dancing on the edge of embarrassment--Herman Cain (thin crust), Newt Gingrich (smart but tone deaf), Michelle Bachman (scary cute), Rick Perry (even God's endorsement didn't help), Ron Paul (unpopular truths stir fried with blunt fun), Rick Santorum (see Manchurian candidate), and others. Eliminate those and you're left with two Mormons--Jon Huntsman (ignore because he makes sense and is experienced) and Mitt Romney (well no one will vote for a Mormon right?). A few others didn't make the cut. Can you imagine being told you don't qualify to be among THIS field of candidates? But the bottom line is this: the quantity and quality of these debates did not serve us well.

RELIGION: I spent 33 years on the staff of a faith community, eight years as the denominational president. I know a bit about faith and politics and I find the use of those principles in today's campaigns to be appalling. Several candidates said they were running in response to a call from God. I always thought God was too busy controlling the outcome of football games to take on politics as well. Those who want a reasonable understanding of church and state would be well advised to note that the constitutional "wall of separation" is designed not just to protect the church from the state but also to protect the state from the church. And to that I say,"Amen."

EXTREMISM: Even as I write this there is much ado on the television about the congressman who stated that a child conceived in a rape is a "gift from God." My own state features commercials about one of our congressmen who seems to know that if it's a "legitimate rape" a woman has the ability to close it down and presumably prevent conception. I can't even believe I'm writing this stuff. This campaign cycle has featured a war against science, a battle over the rights of women to control their own bodies, and it has put extremists in a position of forcing candidates to embrace positions they do not believe in for the sake of getting elected. We have a right to expect our leaders not to be scared of scary extremists. In 2012, alas, that is misplaced hope.

MONEY: This is the worst of all. Thanks to the same Supreme Court mentioned above, virtually any meaningful campaign finance limits were struck down. That left us with an orgy of spending beyond belief, and some billionaires or poorer millionaires made it clear they would use their PACs and Super PACs as vessels for contributions without limits and often without disclosure. I might be good for a $200 political contribution in a race I care about, maybe some smaller amounts for local elections. Why would I feel motivated to give a couple hundred bucks in a time when the well-heeled have bought the election for the price of a $10,000 breakfast and a photo op? I eat my Raisin Bran, sip my coffee, read the morning paper, and sulk. And for good reason.

So now we await the outcome of this tortuous process. We will each do our part in accordance with our convictions. It looks like a mess, but somehow it usually seems to turn out okay. I trust that it shall be so in this election year.

And then, could we please turn our attention to things we can learn from the flawed process leading finally to November 6, 2012. This grand experiment in democracy is sorely in need of a tuneup.


Note: This version differs slightly from the version posted online around noon on 10/25/2012. Edits were primarily grammatical or for clarity. In a few places, notably the last two paragraphs, a few additional sentences were written. The basic premises are identical in both versions.  (10/25/2012, 8:00pm)

On Clarifying God's Role in Missouri Politics

I mean no disrespect, but there are more and more reports that God has been meddling in Missouri politics. Now, to be sure I am not one to tell God how to spend his time. I'm a strong supporter of God; I've even befriended him on Facebook. Maybe it's just a matter of his not having time to read up on things, but when it comes to Missouri politics I am a little worried that God may be in over his head.

It starts with the Republican candidates for the U.S. Senate seat held by Democratic Sen. Claire McCaskill, whose position favoring such issues as health care, Social Security, and public education have apparently put her on political hit lists that no self-respecting Christian would want to be on.

There were three major candidates in the Republican primary this week and it would be difficult to find anything of significance separating them on issues. Mostly their focus was persuading GOP voters that they were more conservative than their opponents, or than any other human being on the face of the earth for that matter.

They did use different strategies, however. One candidate likened herself to Sarah Palin and brought Sarah to town for an endorsement. Didn't work. Another relatively unknown businessman put $7.5 million of his own money in the race. Didn't work.

The third candidate is a six-term member of Congress who is considered one of the most unflinching conservatives in the House. He kept a low profile and to his credit chose not to run attack ads. He didn't reveal the secret of his success until he was declared the winner of the primary, and then he immediately disclosed how he did it and who helped him do it:

I want to give thanks to God our Creator who has blessed this campaign, heard your prayers, and answered them with victory. Through the months, we have seen frequent instances of His blessing and are reminded that with Him all things are possible. (Kansas City Star, August 8, 2012, page 1)

That one worked.

Read more here: http://www.kansascity.com/2012/08/08/3750097/show-me-state-showdown-akin-will.html#storylink=misearch#storylink=cpy

This announcement by U.S. Rep. Todd Akin demands analysis, if only to avoid scorn. One is tempted, indeed required, to ask the obvious questions. Is God registered as a political lobbyist in the state of Missouri? If so, do we know for sure whether he is a Republican who drinks tea? And further, in view of his "creator" role mentioned in Akin's statement can we even assume that God is a U.S. citizen? Wouldn't the folks in Mozambique expect that God is one of their's as well? And what about birthing documents? One analyst opined that they may have been lost in the Flood. Yes, THAT flood.

Greek Orthodox Archbishop Michael visits
 President Harry Truman at the White House,
January 20, 1950

Missouri politics can be tough. Ask Tom Pendergast. Ask Harry Truman. I really do not know what kind of political acumen God brought to Akin's campaign. Here in Missouri God usually shows up at Sunday School, church picnics, and the like. I'm just a little concerned that if God has signed up for Akin it may have been because of political naiveté rather than political enthusiasm.

You see, here in Missouri these days candidates who believe in things like caring for the poor and healing the sick tend to get accused of horrible sins like killing puppies and supporting Medicare. And whether God knows it or not, if he hooks his wagon to Akin's star he is going to be expected to shed that wimpy "no attack ads" position and start turning out those commercials.

Now it is true that God has a pretty good résumé. The vetting process will be burdensome but ultimately revealing. Here's what I think will come of it all. Once these folks who claim God as their campaign manager get a good look at God's record they are going to discover that it isn't quite the fit they were expecting.

And as for God, I am confident that a few days with the Akin campaign will make it clear that there are other disasters more worthy of God's time and energy than Missouri politics.

Like Darfur.

Sex, Politics, and Stupidity

a photo by gwilmore on Flickr.

American politics never cease to amaze me. I just watched 30 minutes of Andrea Mitchell Reports, always a thoughtful interview program on MSNBC.

It began with a terrific analysis of the U.S./China relationship by Jon Huntsman, former ambassador to China and former Republican candidate for president of the United States. He demonstrated a vast command of the history and culture of China and urged all candidates to avoid the sound bites and give the issue the thoughtful reflection that this very complex and highly consequential matter deserves.

Jon Huntsman

I never did understand why Huntsman didn't make a bigger splash in the GOP nomination process. He always seemed to be a guy who understands the importance of bipartisanship; he was appointed to the ambassadorial post in China by Democratic President Obama. The Republican base saw that as a problem not as evidence of his ability to be effective across party lines.

Instead of listening to the likes of Huntsman the party preferred a three ring circus where the lion tamer was up first, soon replaced by the high wire artist, and then completely taken over by the clowns. And the ringmaster? Nowhere to be found.

Foster Friess

So just as I settled back appreciating Huntsman's civility and intelligence, there cometh Foster Friess, the millionaire backer of Rick Santorum's presidential aspirations. Asked about the statements attributed to Santorum that contraception was "dangerous" he dismissed the issue by saying, "Back in my days they used Bayer Aspirin for contraception--the gals put it between their knees." Even the veteran reporter Andrea Mitchell was nonplussed, stumbling along in an effort to salvage a moment of grace out of the statement's stupidity. 

It's this kind of stuff that comedians like Bill Maher loves. On the Tonight Show he left Jay Leno cracking up when he said that Rick Santorum "believes that life begins at erection." I laugh right along with everyone else, always willing to be titillated by a little naughty joke or edgy comment now and then. 

But then I stop. Do we realize that the world is laughing at us? We have people who are considered serious candidates for leader of the free world babbling on about social issues that have been settled for decades, sometimes generations. 

Mr Santorum, it is not contraception that is dangerous. It is you.

The Page Turns

What is to be said?

Today Barack Obama rests his hand on the Lincoln Bible and becomes the 44th president of the United States. Throughout the nation and around the globe pundits, historians, politicians, bartenders, celebrities, educators, students, preachers and plumbers have reached deep inside their souls to find words to match this moment. And still, however eloquent, words fail.

I cannot recall a time when I have experienced a public event in such an intensely personal way. One cannot understand how it feels to me without having walked in my moccasins and lived my life, complete with its moments of soaring joy and wrenching loss. I sense that many people feel similarly. What happens in Washington, DC today will put a face on this country that will resonate around the world. But in a strange way the importance of this day is not about civics or politics. It is not even about history. It is about autobiography. Not Obama's autobiography. Mine. And yours.

Among the trinkets marking moments of my life there is a lapel pin, plain in design, on which the letters FMBM are engraved. Few would know the meaning of that acronym--"For McGovern Before Miami." These pins were distributed to people who worked for or contributed to the anti-war candidacy of George McGovern before his nomination at the 1972 Democratic National Convention in Miami. It was, of course, a doomed crusade (McGovern was clobbered by Richard Nixon, winning only a single state). But for me, a seminarian at the time, and for many of my generation, it was personal. I still think we were right and I take a certain amount of pleasure in looking at that pin and remembering.

I mention this only because I was also drawn to Barack Obama well before he became a viable candidate on the national stage. In this case it was words that did it. One day in Costco I saw a copy of what looked like an interesting book--Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance, written in 1995 by a virtually unknown figure named Barack Obama. It was liberally discounted so I bought it. The writing was thoughtful and lyrical, personal and transparent. And I, like him a son without a father, connected to his story.

Most impressive was the way in which he drew upon his own search for identity, particularly his multi-racial family, to frame his emerging social and political convictions. He discovered his story, incredibly complex though it was, could be knitted together with the totally diverse experience of others to form community. He wrote:

...they'd offer a story to match or confound mine, a knot to bind our experiences together--a lost father, an adolescent brush with crime, a wandering heart, a moment of simple grace. As time passed, I found that these stories, taken together, had helped me bind my world together, that they gave me the sense of place and purpose I'd been looking for. (Dreams from My Father, page 190)

You see? It's personal. My story. Your story. We're in there. And he gets it.

The picture included with this post is of our son Brian and his one year old daughter, our beloved granddaughter, Ashley. It isn't posed. She loves to look at books and magazines. Please note that it is right size up. By sheer chance she picked up Sojourners, a magazine addressed to people of faith who seek social justice. The cover of this issue was Barack Obama and the content was devoted to a series of letters written to the President-Elect expressing their hopes and dreams.

My hopes and dreams are embodied by Ashley. I cried on election night and the tears are flowing on this Inauguration Day. At first I couldn't understand why it was so emotional for me. But now I know. It's because my story, our two sons' stories, and Ashley's story, is in that podium today.

Almost a year ago I posted here some reflections on Obama's candidacy that I entitled, Dare I Trust Obama with my Mind and Heart? Some of the experiences I wrote about there are at the heart of the emotions that have welled up within me these past weeks. I chose to trust. Now, as I post this, the oath of office has just been administered.

The page has turned.

America Robbed - The Debate We Need

My frustration with the presidential campaign is impossible to overstate. The designation of Sarah Palin as a vice-presidential nominee has made a thoughtful discussion of the issues virtually impossible. Dialogue about the economy, the wars, the environment has been replaced with nonsense about eBay, lipstick, and bridges to nowhere.

I had strong hopes that an Obama/McCain race would put two capable candidates on the stage for a serious conversation about this country's future. Unfortunately, McCain's reckless designation of a highly unqualified vice-presidential nominee has spiked any prospect for that. Instead we'll be exploring "when is an earmark an earmark" or "who fixes lunch for the kids when mom is vice-president?"

Last Sunday (9/7/08) Sen Joe Biden, the Democratic vice-presidential candidate, gave a preview of what could have been when he was interviewed by Tom Brokaw on NBC's "Meet the Press." Asked about his position on abortion Biden, a devout Roman Catholic, responded in a thoughtful, reflective way that honored the nuances so important to issues of faith and public policy. It has received little attention; the press has been busy tracking down Palin's per diems for being home.

I've appended a transcript of that portion of the interview. Watching the video clip is better because it shows the personal dimension more effectively.

It's not poetry, but it is precisely the quality of conversation we deserve. And we're not getting it.

----

The following transcript is an excerpt of an interview with Sen. Joe Biden on "Meet the Press" for 9/7/08. The text was clipped without edit from the program's web page.

MR. BROKAW: You're a lifetime communicant in the Catholic Church. You've talked often about your faith and the, and the strength of your feelings about your faith.

SEN. BIDEN: Actually, I haven't talked often about my faith. I seldom talk about my faith. Other people talk about my faith.

MR. BROKAW: I'll give you an opportunity to talk about it now.

SEN. BIDEN: Yeah.

MR. BROKAW: Two weeks ago I interviewed Senator Nancy Pelosi--she's the speaker of the House, obviously--when she was in Denver. When Barack Obama appeared before Rick Warren, he was asked a simple question: When does life begin? And he said at that time that it was above his pay grade. That was the essence of his question. When I asked the speaker what advice she would give him about when life began, she said the church has struggled with this issue for a long time, especially in the last 50 years or so. Her archbishop and others across the country had a very strong refutation to her views on all this; I guess the strongest probably came from Edward Cardinal Egan, who's the Archbishop of New York. He said, "Anyone who dares to defend that they may be legitimately killed because another human being `chooses' to do so or for any other equally ridiculous reason should not be providing leadership in a civilized democracy worthy of the name." Those are very strong words. If Senator Obama comes to you and says, "When does life begin? Help me out here, Joe," as a Roman Catholic, what would you say to him?

SEN. BIDEN: I'd say, "Look, I know when it begins for me." It's a personal and private issue. For me, as a Roman Catholic, I'm prepared to accept the teachings of my church. But let me tell you. There are an awful lot of people of great confessional faiths--Protestants, Jews, Muslims and others--who have a different view. They believe in God as strongly as I do. They're intensely as religious as I am religious. They believe in their faith and they believe in human life, and they have differing views as to when life--I'm prepared as a matter of faith to accept that life begins at the moment of conception. But that is my judgment. For me to impose that judgment on everyone else who is equally and maybe even more devout than I am seems to me is inappropriate in a pluralistic society. And I know you get the push back, "Well, what about fascism?" Everybody, you know, you going to say fascism's all right? Fascism isn't a matter of faith. No decent religious person thinks fascism is a good idea.

MR. BROKAW: But if you, you believe that life begins at conception, and you've also voted for abortion rights...

SEN. BIDEN: No, what a voted against curtailing the right, criminalizing abortion. I voted against telling everyone else in the country that they have to accept my religiously based view that it's a moment of conception. There is a debate in our church, as Cardinal Egan would acknowledge, that's existed. Back in "Summa Theologia," when Thomas Aquinas wrote "Summa Theologia," he said there was no--it didn't occur until quickening, 40 days after conception. How am I going out and tell you, if you or anyone else that you must insist upon my view that is based on a matter of faith? And that's the reason I haven't. But then again, I also don't support a lot of other things. I don't support public, public funding. I don't, because that flips the burden. That's then telling me I have to accept a different view. This is a matter between a person's God, however they believe in God, their doctor and themselves in what is always a--and what we're going to be spending our time doing is making sure that we reduce considerably the amount of abortions that take place by providing the care, the assistance and the encouragement for people to be able to carry to term and to raise their children.